


The Beginning of All We Know

by sam_writes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Black Widow - Freeform, Black Widow origin, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Fighting, Flashbacks, Gen, Hawkeye - Freeform, Natasha Needs a Hug, Protective Clint Barton, Red Room (Marvel), References to Abuse, Violence, Young Natasha, clint barton keeps bringing home strays, natasha recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10608243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_writes/pseuds/sam_writes
Summary: When an unknown assassin takes out nearly all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Moscow base, Clint Barton and his team are sent to track whoever's responsible and kill them. But when he finds out it's a young girl he disobeys orders and brings her back to headquarters to start again as an agent.The Origin Story of the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov.





	1. Chapter 1

He stood six feet in front of her, his gun held steady with a dead shot aimed over her chest. A fatal shot and both of them knew it. 

Her flowing brown hair framed her face as the warm night breeze settled, and she closed her calculating eyes. They both knew no plan she formulated would get her out of this one. Not with a gun held by a trained marksman before her, surrounded by armed agents at the alley’s end and more on each street corner. 

Her face remained unmoved, and if it had been only a little darker he might have missed the drop of moisture collecting in the corner of her eye yet it never dared to fall. 

As she stood there in the alley, sure to die, her eyes closed and her stoic face was somehow as calm as he’d ever seen it. As he studied her, he began to notice how young she was. He wondered how he’d never noticed before how smoother her face was, how her cheeks held on to the last stubborn trace of her childhood. Her eyebrows crinkled ever so slightly and he could see her biting the inside of her cheek in a tell tale anticipation of pain. 

He made a choice in that very moment; he would not kill this girl, orders be damned. 

“Agent Barton, what the hell are you doing? Take the shot!” When one tap to the ear, still holding his gun in perfect aim, Agent Mathroy over the intercom yelling through his ear was silenced. 

“There are two armed agents at the end of the alley,” he informed her. She cracked open her green eyes, hesitant and lacking any evidence of fear. “Behind you, there’s a twenty foot wall. No dumpsters, nothing to jump off of, and no footholds or ledges. There’s a sniper on the roof if you try to climb. I have a team of eight agents and I have them on the street corners if you try to run. I know you’re talented but you can’t escape this.” 

She hadn’t moved at all since he’d cornered her in the alley and she’d turned to see him block off her only exit nearly five minutes ago. Her keen eyes found each agent at every exit, counting the shadows on the roofs, and finding them each there and armed. Finally she settled on looking him in the eyes.

“What do you want from me?”

“Why do you think I want something?”

“You should have shot me by now.” 

He lowered his gun back into his belt holster, and held his hands in the air. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes studied him, suspicious, but her mouth remained shut. 

“Well I’m Clint. Promise you won’t try to kill me? My gun is away now, no tricks. But if you try something the other agents I’m with will kill you. And I don’t want you to die. I’m from S.H.I.E.L.D., they sent me. I think you could do some good over there.” 

With a skeptic look on her face, they both stood still for minutes. Clint waited, as still as she was, waiting for her to say something. 

Slowly she nodded, hands deep in her pockets, and walked towards him. 

Clint reached his arm out to her to lead her back to the plane, and in a flash her hands were out of her pockets and on his wrist. One hand was holding his forearm. Punch after punch was laid on the joint of his shoulder. Her size was deceiving. She held the strength of a dozen men in every punch. Chaos erupted around him. The rest of his team came running into the alley yelling, guns drawn. 

“Don’t shoot!” He yelled, dodging fists, not taking his eyes off the girl he was sent to kill. He grabbed her hands as she squirmed and fought. “Stand down, don’t shoot!”

Her hands were held together by Clint’s and mechanically her legs flew, knees aiming for her captor’s stomach. He took each hit, grunting but never faltering in his stature. With great struggle, he managed to turn her around. Her arms were pinned at her sides as Clint’s arms wrapped around her middle. 

“C’mon, I thought we had a deal. Are you done?” Clint breathed heavy, his head a solid foot above her own.

With a sound emitting from her throat, somewhere between a sob and a yell, she stopped struggling. A man approached, thick black hair over a broad body, and her stomach clenched. 

“Barton, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Mathroy. Like I said, we’re bringing her back.” 

“She’s a killer!”

“She’s a kid. And this is my mission.” 

“Fury’s going to be pissed.” 

The man, Mathroy, stalked off, leaving Clint to slouch back over to talk in her ear. “Listen, I hate that guy. Please let me prove him wrong.” 

Clint was an enigma. He had her cornered. There was no way she could have escaped. She could have gone down fighting, but with eight other people after taking out Clint it wouldn’t have mattered. She would have pulled the trigger. So why didn’t he? 

She contemplated this as the loaded her on the plane, in the center seat with her hands and feet cuffed much to Clint’s displeasure. He kept talking to her as she sat in silence. He talked about S.H.I.E.L.D. as if the Red Room hadn’t already told her everything. 

“Natalia.” She took a deep breath. “My name in Natalia Romanov.” 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hours later found her standing behind Clint in the director’s office. The plaque on his desk read ‘Fury’ and she had to wonder if it was his name or a quality. She decided on both with the thunder in his voice. In another life it may have frightened her. However, she’d been turned to marble long ago. 

“You disobeyed orders! I told you to take care of an assassin, and you think you can just bring her back?” He didn’t even need to yell, the force of his voice and his one eye’s glare was threatening enough. 

“All due respect, Director, I did take care of it.” 

Silence, just for a moment as Director Fury took a step forward.

“And how the hell is bringing her back here, to incorporate her in our system, taking care of an assassin that’s killed or maimed almost our entire Moscow base?” 

Natalia watched in a sort of fascination as the vein on his forehead throbbed. She stifled a grin as she noticed that it was even larger than Madame Barcov’s. Then she remembered what happened the last time she laughed around the Madame and it quickly disappeared.  
“Well now she’s not a problem. She’s not in Moscow anymore, is she? They can’t control her anymore, and we didn’t have to kill her.” 

Fury took a very long, very deep breath. “What … the hell is wrong with you Barton?” 

Clint moved closer. His voice lowered and from where Natalia stood between them a few feet back she could see his eyes plead for her. It was strange; to see someone trying to bargain for her life and not their own or their family’s from the other side of her gun. 

“She’s just a kid. Please. She’s just a kid.” 

The director’s eye was on her, and she met his stare. Slowly she saw his gaze soften and he sighed again. 

“You have to train her,” he told Clint, not looking away from Natalia. “And if anything, and I mean anything happens it’s your ass on the line.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay so this is your room.” Clint had walked her down seven flights of stairs, rounded four lefts, and six rights to bring her to her new rooms. It was isolated, the only room in the hall. “All the locks are controlled by main security. Can’t leave past ten until seven the next morning. They have high level field agents in an apartment near every stair case on every level. We’re kind of paranoid here.” 

He gave an awkward chuckle, like he didn’t want to lie but didn’t really want to be telling the truth. Natalia glanced around her new apartment, walking as Clint trailed close behind. It was sparse but more than she’d been accommodated to before. 

There was a room with a bed and a single pine chest. Another with a standing shower, toilet, and sink. They were standing in her living room now that had nothing but a couch and S.H.I.E.L.D. books. The archway to her left lead to a small kitchen with her basic needs. Everything was so white and sterile it burned her eyes. 

Clint seemed to sense her unease. “Listen, I know this isn’t much. They’re just… nervous about you. You’ll start in this crap shack, and once you start training you’ll be moved up. If you need anything, just say my name and the monitors will alert me. I’ll be back here at seven with some clothes and we’ll bring you down to training. There should be food in the fridge.” 

“Monitors?” Natalia’s eyebrows raised. A spark of agitation bloomed in her chest. Her throat tightened. She forced herself to relax. She searched the room again, looking for cameras. 

“No, no videos,” Clint informed, watching her tracing her hands across the walls. “Just voice recordings and… like scans. To get statistics, body language, and overall health information. No videos. You’re okay here.” 

He left, picking up his duffle bag from the floor to return to his own apartment. As soon as he left, the door buzzed. Natalia looked to the lock, the only decoration on her bare walls. 11:58. Her doors were locked for the night. 

She looked more closely into her apartment. She opened her kitchen drawers, rolling her eyes when she found only childproof rubber utensils and paper plates. Her bed was a single twin mattress on the ground without a frame. Each wall was painted white. Everything in her apartment was the same. 

It made her miss the black of the Red Room. 

Of course Natalia had hated it there. The cold had bit at her bare skin, everyday was filled with cold glares and pain. But it was all she knew. It was all she had. She knew where she stood, what her purpose was, what they wanted from her. But S.H.I.E.L.D… she didn’t know anymore. 

Sighing, she grabbed a banana from her fridge, slammed the door shut in humiliation and frustration. Climbing onto her bed, she pulled the thin sheets tight around her and shut her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

“Who trained you?” The tired man before her leaned forward, hands folded on the table. They’d been at this for twenty minutes now. He would ask a question, and she’d just stare ahead at him or at the dark glass she could tell was double sided.

“Why did you kill all those people at the institute?” He sighed deeply when he got no answer, and promptly stood and left the room. Natalia stared at her hands as yelling burst from outside too muffled and distorted to make out.

And then Director Fury himself walked into the room. The metal chair scraped against the floor as he sat across form her. For a few beats they just met the other’s eye(s).

“I gave you a room,” he started, crossing his arms. “I gave you food and clothes and just about anything Barton asked for you to have. I could have killed you. Most would even say I should‘ve.” He leaned forward. His gaze deepened and though it chilled her she met it head on. “But all I asked in return was some information, because you sure as hell didn’t teach yourself all that.”

Natalia crossed her arms in return. Her back was held straight against the chair. “What do you want to know?”

“Who trained you?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because if you don’t you become a liability. I don’t deal well with agents who don’t cooperate.”

She quirked her eyebrow, unfazed by the threat. “I’m an agent now?”

“That’s what Agent Barton has planned. You can bet your ass I’m not letting you just walk out of here after you’ve killed at least twenty of my people.”

“And if there were people like me?”

“That’s why I need the information. Obviously they’re hostile. I can’t let another agency attack my bases. We’re going to take them out.”

Natalia didn’t know how to feel in that moment.

“Does that upset you?” Fury pressed, seeing no change in her at the mention of killing those she knew. “That we’re going to kill your friends there?”

“We weren’t allowed to have friends. Emotions get in the way of the job.”

Natalia had made a decision then. Since her capture, the offer of a new life, she’d been debating the offer: should she give up all she knows for this uncertain new life, or die defending her past- the people who made her what she is.

But that just had her thinking: Yes, it was her life, but what sort of life was it? Where she killed and feared, forced to murder friends for the sake of training to murder others. They’d given her a bed here and her own space. She had a shower and food without having to battle for it.

She remembered all the operations, the beatings, the hours and hours of training without rest or reward.

She wouldn’t protect them any longer.

Fury watched her mind twist and turn behind her eyes. “How many others are there?”

“We started with fifty, I think. When I left there were twenty three. All girls, all the same age. We don’t really know how old we are. They took us as babies.”

“Where’s your base? The mountains, a couple hours north from Moscow.”

“Your leaders?”

“Three trainers come and go. Some are replaced.” She couldn’t bring herself to say Madame Barcov’s name.

“But who’s in charge?”

Silence. Fury waited. Yes, Natalia knew she wasn’t kind. She was evil, not to be protected. But this woman was the one who raised her, who gave her everything she had meager as it was. She’s the reason she could defend herself. She gave Natalia the skills needed to do good here.

“Tell me later than. But I will know their name.” The director stood up, fanning his long coat behind him as he dusted off the front of his pants. It wasn’t the first time he’d needed information from someone abused. He knew she was struggling, but looking in her eyes he knew she’d come around. All this girl needed was time and incentive. “That’s enough for now. Get her to level one training.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Natalia had heard the orders to train, she was estatic. Finally, something she knew. Yeah, right. Like the odds were ever in her favor.

“If you see a level 2 detainee, what do you do?” The plump woman before her pushed her glasses up her nose. She stared at Natalia expectantly.

“Shoot them, quiet, don’t make a scene.” The woman sighed at her response.

“No! Again, if you see a level 2 they need to be brought for information. Only shoot a level 1, because level 1 means dangerous and high priority to kill.”

Natalia rolled her eyes. “I know what the levels mean. But if you have a target, kill them. Don’t give them the chance to use you or escape. Then go back and dig up information on your own. People are unreliable.”

A whole week she’d been here. Every day Clint would show up at her door at seven sharp when her doors opened. He made sure she ate and walked her to another pale white room. For five hours she sat alone with this woman, her brown skin the only color among the white walls, white uniforms, white desk. They reviewed protocols, she ate lunch, she reviewed for another four hours and was quizzed for another on top of that, and went back to her apartment. Some days she wandered the floors, trying to see how many levels she could wander without anyone stopping her.

“If you have disagreements with protocol take it up with the director. But you’re with S.H.I.E.L.D. now and you need to follow S.H.I.E.L.D. rules.” Natalia didn’t mind this woman as much. She was more patient than the old man that had interviewed her. But these just didn’t make any sense.

“If I answer like an agent can I leave?”

“If you answer correctly, I will talk to the director, yes.” And so Natalia did what she had learned long ago: gave them what they wanted so she could get what she wanted. Then the hour was up and she was free to return to her rooms.

She had just been going to turn the water on for a shower when a knock sounded at her door. Natalia wasn’t surprised when Clint was on the other side when she opened the door- who else would visit her? He smiled when he met her eyes, and she tried to return it. He hadn’t been around since her training began, and in truth she missed the easy way he talked to her without suspicion- though she wouldn’t admit it, even to herself.

His arms were loaded with bags, and a smell wafted in that made her mouth water.

“Can I come in?” She nodded and widened the door, watching as he laid the bags on the table and pulled out the box that brought that delicious smell.

“Sorry I’ve been gone for a few days, figured with training and all you’d be busy and I was given some time to head home,” he apologized as he began pulling her plates out and setting up food for them both.

“The training is pointless. What’s the point of capturing someone if you aren’t going to eliminate the threat?” She stared at the strange food he’d put on her plate. Cookies that didn’t look like others she’d seen before, and oddly cut triangles covered in cheese.

“Well we don’t kill people we don’t have to. That’s what makes us different from the bad guys.” He turned to look at her over his shoulder and cracked another smile when he saw her staring quizzically at the food. “What, never seen pizza before?”

She shook her head and took a step closer to study it. He chuckled and passed the plate to her and carried his own to her couch. Reaching a hand in his pocket , he pulled out a small device and set it on the ground in front of the wall. A hologram appeared over the white paint.

“Okay so I figured if you haven’t had pizza you haven’t seen many movies either. I’ve got Mulan, you’re going to love it.”

She sat down next to him, tentatively taking a bite of her pizza. She rolled it around with her tongue, and tasting no chemicals or drugs, swallowed. It was good and unlike anything else the Red Room had given her.

He turned off her lights and they ate by light of the movie. Her stomach dropped. Natalia put her plate down, suddenly not hungry. She turned to look at him and saw him break from the screen to glance back at her and grin. His empty plate was on the ground.

It all clicked now. Why he cared to bring her here, with the food and the movie and the conversations. Why he smiled at her. Why he cared. She felt like she was going to be sick, but she knew what she had to do now.

She undid the top three buttons of the pajamas Clint had snuck in for her as he watched the movie. She turned to him and before he could say a word her mouth was moving on his. Hands bracing herself on his shoulders, she pulled herself across the couch to straddle his lap. In seconds she undid the rest of her shirt and let it fall to the floor and she grinded herself over him.  
His hands were on her arms and she braced herself, knowing what men tended to do when they had such a tight grip on her. But instead of pulling her closer, Clint did what no one else had done- he pushed her away.

“What the hell was that?” He stood up, sputtering and wiping at his mouth.

Natalia was confused. She had though it was quiet clear. “Payment.”

“Payment? For . . .” he seemed to be looking everywhere but her naked chest. “Oh, my god Natalia, _no_.”

This… was confusing. “You don’t want me?”

“Not like that! I have a girlfriend, and you’re a kid! _Jesus_.” He was finding the ceiling to be very interesting in this moment.

“But you brought me things.”

“I was being nice!” He searched the ground for her top and held it out to her with his hand over her eyes. “Here, put on your shirt.” He moved to the couch and tentatively she followed, doing up the last button. “Listen, I know what it’s like to be the screwed up kid with nothing. I was deaf, a lot of times I could find batteries for my hearing aids, and people took advantage of that. My brother and I had to do some fucked up things to survive. This place let me change that. Thought I could help you.”

“I just…” Natalia looked down, willing the burning in her eyes to leave. “I always had to repay them.”

Clint’s heart broke in that moment. Her jaw tensed, and her eyebrows scrunched together as he saw her try to hold her past inside.

He folded her into his arms as the first of her tears began to fall. She didn’t know what to do at first. She couldn’t remember the last time was embraced without malice or pain. But he held her tight, his hands were soothing on her back, and he smelled like the grass of an older happier life, so she lifted her arms to pull herself closer.

“What the hell did they do to you,” he whispered into her hair. “What the hell did they do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Sorry if anyone was made uncomfortable through this chapter. 
> 
> More will be revealed about the red room as the story progresses, as well as with Laura and Clint's past. 
> 
> Spring break is over, so there will probably be a larger space between chapters especially with testing next month but I will do my best to update as often as possible without putting up shoddy work. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments give me life. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you soon!


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, Natalia, we’re going to make a file on you. Just some questions, alright?” Clint walked her to the elevator, giving his credentials for access to Fury’s office. “It’s just protocol, done on everyone. They want me for some extra information about the mission so I’ll be there the whole time. Unless you don’t want me there and I can come back later or-”

“Thank you, Clint.” Natalia smiled up at him.

In truth, since that night she’d been able to open up more. Nothing in much detail, just passing references. He never asked for more or used it against her. He never treated her like glass because he knew she was marble. Clint made her realize that this place was better, and that the Red Room was truly evil. Of course she had already known that but he extinguished the fire of doubt and loyalty she couldn’t help but harbor. Despite every warning light in her body, she trusted him.

As they entered the room, Fury nodded at them which was about the warmest welcome he could give. Natalia couldn’t help but take in the view. Through his glass office she could see a sparkling river, mingling with the shades of the sky in a whirl of blues.

She’d been sent out for missions often, all the girls had. She’d been sent as far in every direction as India, Germany, and Saudi Arabia. She’d seen castles and rolling fields and endless desert lay before her. She’d looked out on what nature had to offer and felt envy, and wistfulness, and sorrow. But never before had such a scene make her feel warm.

Clint touched a hand to her arm, jolting her out of her daze. She ignored the concern in his eyes- honestly, it made her feel weak, she despised the feeling- and took one of the seats in front of the director as Clint followed suit.

“Okay, the first part is just the basics.” Fury opened a pile and took the first one from the stack, black pen  
already between his fingers. “Name?”

“Natalia Romanov.” Fury looked up and quirked his eyebrow at her. She shrugged back at him. It was typical for her to get that reaction. It was the name of the last great rulers of Russia. Rumors had even started among the girls that she was a legacy- maybe she was, she had no family left to ask.

“Agents tend to have code names to protect themselves and their families off the job. You got one in mind? We can put it now or later.”:

Natalia bit her cheek and looked back at Fury. “Later.”

Fury scribbled as he spoke and continued down the list. “Birthday?”

“I don’t know.”

“Family?”

“Dead, probably.” She felt Clint reach for her hand, and when she didn’t oppose he gripped it tight but she looked at the papers instead of her hand in his, her sign of weakness.

“Medical history?”

“Left wrist broke once. Right arm broke at the forearm. Pelvic fracture twice. A couple fingers, a few ribs. No illnesses, but monthly vaccines. I don’t know what they were. I think they helped heal faster.”

Even Fury’s hand faltered. Clint was fucking livid, but knowing how much Natalia needed calm and stability especially in this moment of digging up her past he settled for a deep breath and reassuring squeeze to her hand in his.

The silence, only a moment, seemed to last forever. Fury cleared his throat and read the next line, albeit a bit rushed that Natalia surely picked up on. “Skills?”

“Guns. Knives. Hand to hand. Undercover. Disguises. Tracking.”

“What the hell are we training you for then? Barton, you wanna oversee her physical training? Sparring room seventeen is all yours, level six, eight in the morning until five.” Natalia’s heart dropped at the mention.

Clint nodded excitedly. “Yes, sir.” He knew what some people would try with her. He knew what they were saying now, and was relieved to know that her physical training would be in good hands. He was no bragger, but he was pretty damn good in his own opinion.

Fury reopened the filed and took the next from the stack. “I need you to tell me about your past. Everything you remember.”

The words froze her. Memories of snow and blood and pain danced before her. How was she supposed to speak when her blood was ice and her lips frozen shut?

“Nat, hey.” Clint held both her hands now and looked into her eyes. She found herself back at the widow, counting the shades of the sky and the water, and pulled herself away. “You don’t have to if you aren’t ready.“ She took her hands from his and looked straight ahead, suddenly missing the warmth of the blue but forcing herself to remain composed.

“I was young when they took me. Five, I think. Maybe younger. I don’t have any memories of my family. There were thirty of us when we started. We trained for hours everyday,. They had us do ballet until we couldn’t stand anymore, and if you fell you were punished.”

She closed her eyes against the memories for a moment, seeing blood pooling over silk shoes, but when she blinked they were gone.

“We got to eat when the last person was left standing. Enough to keep us strong. After we ate we trained again. First it would be lessons, then we fought each other when they thought we had learned enough.

“Every couple months we got injections. They were blue but I don’t know what it was. They stopped a few years ago. Sometimes, after the shots, a few of the girls died. We weren’t allowed to ask where they went, and they never told us anything except to clean up the mess.”

She swallowed hard and found her hands braced around each other but didn’t bother to unravel them from her S.H.I.E.L.D. issue T-Shirt. She stared down at them, unable to meet either Fury’s or Clint’s eyes as she continued.

“When we were still young they sent us on occasional missions. Steal this, distract them, plant this bomb. No one suspects the kids. But as we got older the training changed. It became more vigorous. They taught us how to seduce for the mission.

“And then the missions became more frequent. More involved. We were sent to shoot diplomats, fake suicides, whatever they needed. If you took too long, or tried to run, others were sent to kill you. I was on my way to blow up a soviet weapon storage when Clint caught me. Analis had tried to exchange codes for those weapons to spies.”

After a minute in silence, realizing her story was finished and letting it sink in, Fury spoke and shattered the glass tension in the room. “Are they going to try to kill you?”

Natalia debated this before shaking her head. “They will if they think I’m alive. We’re supposed to kill ourselves rather than be caught.”

“Why didn’t you,” Clint asked, voice rough. “I mean I’m glad and all but…”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wanted out. You gave me that option.”

“I’m going to need to ask some more questions if we want to take this down.” Fury flexed his hand, the page full of ink. “What’s the name of the program?”

“The Black Widows.”

“The base was in the mountains north of Moscow?”

“Yes, about 60 miles.”

“How guarded is the base? Is it just the one?”

She tried to picture it in her mind. She didn’t think she could forget it. “There’s only the one campus. The left building is for sleep and food. The middle grounds were training. It had the Red Room. The right was operations and medication. We fought outside in the snow.”

“Who trained you?”

“There were three that taught us different things. They didn’t have names. When we did weapons, it was a tall woman. Blonde, thin, Siberian. When we did hand to hand it was a man. He was muscular, always wore leather. He had long hair but was clean shaven. He rarely spoke. When we got to seduction and covers it was another man. Not as tall, pale, and oddly thin. Sometimes other would come for a few days, to teach us or take something.”

“And who was the leader? We can’t do this without names. Think.”

Natalia hated herself for hesitating. She knew she should see the devil in pale flesh, but all she could picture was the woman who told her she was unbreakable.

But she bit back at it. She reminded herself of the times she did break- when her feat gave out on the wooden floor of the dance room and leather came down on her again and again until she stood. She wouldn’t protect her.

“Madame Barcov. She taught us ballet, and supervised everything. She assigned the missions.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She waited in the hall outside Fury’s office for Clint to finish up his reports. It unnerved her to know that in the room right next to her she was being discusses. She damned S.H.I.E.L.D.’s thorough sound-proofing as she waited.

When Clint came back out Natasha was ready to go back to her apartment. She had already begun to walk before Clint crossed his arms good naturedly and chuckled at her.

“Not so fast. Director wants to see you.”

Curiously, she stepped back into the office to find Fury writing more notes in her ever growing file.

“Director?”

“Natalia. Take a seat.” He piled in all the papers on his desk and shut the folder that contained everything they knew about her. “First off I’d like to thank you for telling the truth.”

She sat back in the chair slowly, dumbfounded. “What?”

“This room,” he motioned around, “can scan the heartbeat and heat signature of everyone in here. The data is then evaluated and tells me if you lied or not. You didn’t. Thank you, it would have been a pain in my ass to have to requestion you under our lie detectors. Believe me, they work.”

“Then why am I here?”

“I think you’re ready for a mission.” He saw her jaw gape open ever so slightly, and watched as her green eyes widened. “Now obviously we need to run some tests, see your physical capabilities and figure out whatever the hell you’ve been injected with, but I’d like to. . .”

He trailed off, seeing the grin that was on her face.

Now, let’s set the record straight: Nick Fury is a black man running a government spy organization. He was, and had to appear every second of everyday, a through and through badass that wouldn’t hesitate to kill if he had to. He would demand respect and cooperation with his dying breath. Yes that is true, but that’s not an accurate summery of his character.

He was more than just a scary S.H.I.E.L.D. director. There were certain mellow things he cherished: the view of the sky over the city he helped protect, children finding salvation from abusers, and the simple but uncommon act of rising above and taking back your life.

He could never let it show, but it was in that moment that this girl he had almost had killed smiled up at the opportunity to work for good that Natalia Romanov stole into his affections.

Well, not that he’d ever admit to-- though it is universally recommended never to even ask.

“So,” Natalia shifted, acting for serious business after the initial excitement. “What’s the mission?”

Fury tossed her a file of the team she was going with. She inwardly groaned when she recognized Mathroy from the alley as team captain. On the plane to S.H.I.E.L.D. he’d been largely outspoken out killing her, or turning her in for information. Even seeing her around the agency prompted disdainful glares and mutterings she did her best not to decipher.  
  
“Meet your team, Operation 6. Now, the team is removing developing gama rays from a New York City building discreetly before they become explosive. Scientists keep trying to use those damn things for another Captain America serum or some shit but something bad is bound to happen when fools have explosive chemicals.

“Now, you are not doing that. You are going to the basement to find a safe. Once you open it you’ll find a sealed S.H.I.E.L.D. file. This is classified, I think it has information on the Red Room. Sometimes we have to hide our information to avoid it being lost in case of infiltration. Especially when the information is on another agency of sorts. The gamma rays are real, but we didn’t put them there so public safety as well as your own is an issue. Got it?”

Natalia nodded back at him. “Yes. Go with Operation 6. Don’t worry about the rays. Find a safe, bring a file back but don’t open or read it. Got it.”

For a split second before she left the room, she could gave sworn she saw the director give her a small smile, but then she blinked and nothing was there at all.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It was Agents Davis, McKenzie, Tassian, Lopez… “ Natalia wanted to tell him the whole truth, honestly, but she knew he’d freak if he knew Fury assigned her to Mathroy’s team.

“Wait, that’s only a four team. Who’s leading?” Clint looked up at the ceiling as he chewed his noodles, trying to connect the dots of the team.

Natalia looked up at him and braced herself. “…Mathroy.”

The chopsticks slipped from his fingers as he sputtered in rage. Natalia stared down at her own box of Kung Pao Chicken as he went through a series of nonexistent words in his sputtering. Here he’d been kind enough to bring her various foods she’d never had for dinner each night and she repays him by choking him with Chow Mein. But she paid her debts: he had been nothing but honest, so she would be honest with him.

“Is Fury really- Oh my god I can’t believe this. Who would make that ass clown a captain? I swear if-”

“Clint, its okay.” Funny as it was to see Clint rant, Natalia knew he was genuinely concerned for her. She knew he had some sort of child savior complex. It only made sense with his past and why he saved her. But it had become something realer than that. You couldn’t fake that glint in his eyes.

“No, this is definetly not okay. Don’t you remember the way he talked shit on the plane? I thought Fury was going to help you, not-”

“Clint.” She grabbed his arm, willing him to stop his pacing. It set her on edge. “That’s probably why I’m on his team. It’s training, or a test, or whatever. I can handle him.”

Clint fell back on her couch like a rag doll, a heavy sigh let loose into the air. “I know you can. I just really hate that guy.”

“So I’ve heard,” she retorted, plopping a piece of chicken in her mouth.

“Hey Nat?” His hands was on her arm, and when he smiled proudly at her like that she couldn’t help but return one. “You’re going to do great.”

It was only then he realized that his takeout was all over the floor. “My noodles!”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a relief do physical work again. The mission wasn’t for another two days, to wait for Mackenzie and Mathroy to return from a higher priority mission in Europe.

Natalia had been tested all week by two women. The shorter one, an Asian with hair like silk ran the machines while her partner recorded her numbers. There were more tests to be done, they said, even though she’d felt she’d been studied in every way.

Gun range, 3 for 3 dead shot, as far as 400 feet (length of the gun range, open field recommended )

Endurance, 10 mph run, 48.7 minutes

Speed, 43 mph, maintained for 27 minutes

Balance, 25+ minutes per leg stand alone, 10+ per arm

Clint whistled at her chart. “Damn, Nat! I haven’t seen stats like this since they tried to remake the Super Serum.”

“Hey Barton, sparring’s next. You up for it? I’m still bruised up from the last guy.” Agent Wen crossed her arms, waiting expectantly for him to respond. He wasted no time in shrugging off his jacket and stepping onto the mat in the center of the room.

Natalia’s heart clenched in her chest. Why did she have to fight him? It was supposed to be different here. If anyone noticed her hesitation they didn’t comment on it. ‘Of course they won’t’, she thought. ‘They’re studying me.’

“I can’t do this,” she called out. It took all her strength to keep her voice leveled and emotionless.

The other supervisor, who hadn’t felt obligated to give her any name, handed her partner a timer anyway. “If you don’t complete your training you can’t be an Agent. Your choice.”

Just like the red room. Do it or leave; although leave was a kind word for the brutal way they were killed. “Nat, hey,” Clint called, “it’s okay. C’mon you gotta do this. Just don’t hit me too hard.”

He had a nerve to wink at her as she sat there wondering how he could possibly be joking. She steeled herself and met her friend at the center of the mat.

When Agent Wen called ‘go’, Natalia forced herself to throw the first punch.

She barely put half her strength into each move. Clint blocked them easily. She made herself go just fast enough to not look like she was faking it all. Sweat formed just from the force it took to pull her punches. Clint seemed to notice.

“Pause the clock!” He dropped his hands, and in confusion she followed. You could pause sparring? He closed the space between them and put a callused hand on her arm.

“Nat, you’re pulling your punches. What’s up?”

She swallowed and met his gaze trying to keep her expression cold. “I don’t want to kill you.”

Clint had that look in his eyes again- the one she couldn’t tell if she hated. “Natalia its just sparring. We don’t kill each other here, okay? Just practice fighting.”

“No killing?”

“No killing. Now how about we restart the clock and you can kick my ass?”

It doesn’t need much saying, but after a hit or two when she settled on the idea of fighting without death, she totally did.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Natalia passed all her tests with flying colors. Her physical results in fact were so impressive Fury sent a team from the science wing a vile of her blood reluctantly given to evaluate. She even passed those protocol written tests with high marks. There wasn’t a simulation they put her in she didn’t fly through.

She just really wanted to go in the field.

It made her feel useful to be out there doing what she was good at. She resented the feeling that she was in debt to S.H.I.E.L.D.- if she proved a valuable agent she’d owe them nothing. She would make herself indispensable.

And she missed the feel of sun, the way grass and leaves fluttered in the wind. If she could have a mission, she could have them again too. It had been too long. The girls at the base were put under routine. Missions were assigned by whoever’s name was next up on the list.

It had been more than a year before Clint found her that she had been assigned. She’d been sent to Arabia to steal an arms supply of new explosive technology. Natalia could still feel the warm dress silks Bacrov had ordered to be taken from her and stored. She could still taste the salty air from the rocking boat she smuggled herself onto, the crisp air she longed for and never smelt again.

An abandoned home in the suburbs of D.C. may not be a Mediterranean beach, but sun and wind and warmth would be enough. She would make sure of that. She had no bags to pack or reports to file, just a stun gun in a holster at her hip. Yet even despite the training wheels and insignificance of the mission Clint was proud.

“You’re going to do great! If Mathroy’s being a dick, shoot him- wait no, don’t do that. You’ll be back tonight, and give a report to Fury but after we can try burritos there’s this awesome place I know-” He paused at her smile, cutting his rambling before putting his hand at the edge of her shoulder. “I’m just proud of you. You’re going to be a great agent.”  
She ginned, and Clint reached over giving her hand a squeeze. He looked like he was going to say something more, but then knocking at the door echoed through the apartment. Natalia beat Clint to the door, swinging it open to find Mathroy on the other side.

“Wheels up in ten. Be on time or we leave without you.” Natalia nodded. She was itching to close the door. His eyes felt like acid, making her skin burn by the way he looked at her. She had felt that gaze too many times before.

Clint stood behind her, arms crossed at her back as he stared down the opposing agent. “Mathroy. You didn’t die.”

Mathroy turned his gaze to Clint, locking his jaw. “Barton. I see you’re still on babysitter duty. This trip better be quick, don’t bring a bag.” With the final words to Natalia he stormed down the hall. Natalia felt the anger knot in her stomach as she closed the door but willed her face expressionless. She gave Clint a backward glance as she made her way down the winding halls following the map she had memorized to combat preparedness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is a wrap! More to come soon. 
> 
> Hi guys! This was my first story. Please tell me what you think, reviews are amazing. 
> 
> Thanks, for reading, you guys are the best!


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